


Deliver Me: A Heated Afternoon

by AnneLaurant



Category: W.I.T.C.H.
Genre: Confrontation, Drama, F/M, Kissing, Romance, Sexual Tension, Theater Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 17:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21183590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneLaurant/pseuds/AnneLaurant
Summary: Will confronts Phobos after learning a truth that she could not accept for very personal reasons. She wins this time.Warning: A part of a larger fic idea that I may or may not write. Contains a bit of past Caleb/Will.





	Deliver Me: A Heated Afternoon

"Phobos!"

Will's heart thumped-thumped-_thumped_ in frustration.

She knew exactly where to find him. The image burned in her mind, the way the afternoon sun did - the room with stained glass, the abandoned chapel that was always marked for renovation, supposedly forbidden for students to enter, the statues of the crying seraphim on either sides, the flowers that were always fresh.

Then he'd be there, standing next to the broken stained glass, bathed in reds and oranges and yellows.

Will huffed and huffed. The pathway from the stage to the chapel was awfully long and winded, and by winded, she meant the flights of stairs and staircases she had to take. From the stage itself, she went down to the actual theater club room, up to the main hall, up towards the left wing, down the third corner, down to the first hall to the right, down to another set of hallways...

It wouldn't be such a bother if it wasn't too far, and if she wasn't in a white dress for the rehearsal.

"Phobos!" she huffed, going down what seemed to be the seventh set of stairs she had to take.

And at last, she found herself at the familiar yellow tape, which she usually jumped over. The boiling emotions in her heart urged her to simply snatch the tape and tear it in her fingers. She slammed the broken doors open in beastly pants.

"Phobos!" she called once more, and the object of her frustrations beheld himself by the broken stained window with the figure of a queen. Or so he said it was supposed to be. So he said.

So he said, so he said. He'd say so many things, and she hated it. She hated how she believed in all that he'd say.

But he'd never really tell. He'd only turn his head, then a small smirk would grace his lips, amusement sparkling in his eyes.

Just like now.

"You said!" Will huffed again. "You said... you knew the story by heart."

"So I did," said the boy she pursued, playing with his long, flaxen hair. "So I did."

"You didn't tell me you were the playwright!"

"You didn't ask."

Will scratched her head, and the moist of the sweat in her hair spread to her fingers, infuriating her even more. Why did she always have to spell it out for him?

But he eyed her. He eyed her from head to toe, and the smirk was replaced with a stern frown. Footsteps went, and Will backed away. For someone so bold like her, she knew not to mess with someone so mysterious like him.

"W-what?" she gasped, still trying to recover from the lack of air.

Even so, he didn't seem to care for that. His tanned arms reached for her; his hands covering her bare shoulders. Her breath hitched again, and her heart thumped-thumped-_thumped_.

"Didn't I tell you, I hate it when you look so disheveled like this?" he warned.

"You don't care!" Will avoided his blue eyes. "And it's not like I really care! I'm more of a jeans person, a sporty kid, remember?"

"Well, I want to care."

"Why?!"

He sighed, then his ticklish breath caressed her ear. "Don't you usually care for the people important to you?"

Goosebumps trailed along her bare shoulders. How on earth could someone even do this so flawlessly to her? She squirmed even more as she felt ghastly kisses to her neck, to her collarbone. And her heart thumped, thumped, _thumped_.

"D-don't do this," she muttered, trying to stir the conversation back to the actual matter at hand. "You don't have the right to do this when you keep secrets from me."

She hated having to reference dialogues in the middle of an argument, but she had to. He was the playwright. He got her a spot in the play. Then he somehow did something to promote her to the lead role. And Caleb always mysteriously gets some sort of new wound or bruise after their practice sessions. Phobos also had to have done something about that.

But he was having fun. "And what secrets do you wish to know of me, Milady Sinclaire?" Phobos was excellent at dodging the subject, and very excellent at peppering kisses next to her ear, her neck.

"D-don't detract!"

His hand cupped her face, leading her to look at him. "But you're not the one who isn't looking at me."

She gazed away. "I don't need to look at you!"

"You're very red."

"That's because of the sun!"

"Red like Lady Sinclair's rose."

"Y-you too."

"I am."

And when he'd get confident like this, Will had little choice. She gazed at him, cheeks burning at the thoughts, the implications, and her mouth parted. "...I thought we were close."

He cocked his head. "Aren't we?"

"How could we be? I don't even know what I am to you." Will pushed him away, and he let her go. She walked towards his favorite stained glass. Her rage had died, but frustration now had a different accompaniment.

"I keep looking for you. I try to remember everything you like. I work hard on this play even if I have swim practice to attend. And I basically ditched the swim team now that you’ve promoted me to lead role and I… and I accepted it whole-heartedly." Will wrapped her arms around herself, her voice now quivering. "I accepted your wretched Lady Sinclaire so whole-heartedly! So why? Why do you play me like this?"

Phobos played with his tie, until he unknotted it. "What do you want me to do then?" He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, revealing a little bit of his physique. Will's throat went dry, and she gulped.

"I… I don't want secrets between you and me."

"What was that?" He began to advance towards her.

"I-I said, I said... I don't want secrets. Between you and me."

He stood before her. "Why?"

Will shut her eyes. "You always ask me and I give you! I give even when you don't ask me outright! But when I ask you, you never give me anything I really want!" She cleared her throat. "Not to be poetic or anything, but I want your intimacy! Right here!"

She clutched her chest, her rather empty chest. Or rather, it was filled with anything but what she truly wanted. Caleb might have kissed her, but the thrill could only last in the moment when she thought of those actions as betrayal. It only brought her sorrow and awkwardness, and she could never, ever be in the same room as Cornelia again.

But then, Phobos cupped her face and stared straight into her eyes. His blue eyes were now so gentle, so kind. "Will... if you hadn't noticed, I'm quite aware your favorite rose is black. And so is mine."

"What's that got to do with anything?!" Apart from being similar that way? They never really connect, didn't they? Ugh. This brought her more sorrow and awkwardness, didn’t it? "I don't know how that's supposed to change anything and everything, and I don't even know what we are anymore."

"Then what do you want us to be?"

And there he went again, making her spell out things for him.

His other hand held the small of her back and guided their bodies to press against each other. Will's heart thumped-thumped-_thumped_ again, louder, faster, into a pound-pound-_pound_. She was suddenly aware of everything she wore and everything her body was, pressed against the shape of his.

"Borrowing the words of your, ahem, other suitor..." Phobos' voice had a poison to it. "Say the word, and things will stay that way."

Will then found some bravery to smirk. "Really? Are you jealous of Caleb?"

He snarled. “What makes you think that way, Will?”

“Because he kissed me first—"

Phobos growled and pressed his lips against hers. Will whined, taken aback. They were hungry lips. Hungry, devouring lips.

Warmth and sparks of electricity spread. Will shut her eyes and reciprocated, her own lips chasing his mouth, his tongue, his teeth. An overwhelming amount of emotions surged like a flood, washing away the yearning, the longing, the little game they'd played for so long. Fingertips spread little flames through her skin, and Will found her back pressed against the hot glass of the stained window, warmed by the sun.

Yeah. He was the better kisser. Way, way better kisser. _Take that, Caleb._

Then Phobos' strong arms wrapped around her thighs, his lips leaving her for a moment. She pressed her own lips against his temples and his nose as he carried her to a bench. Dust blew around them, flying in the red sunlight like little stars in the sky. A gentle breeze drafted in, but Will shivered not because of the cold, but because of warm lips pressed against her own.

Her arms wrapped around his back, feeling the muscles and skin that she so yearned to touch. Her fingers played with his hair every so now often, as his own did with hers, for he loved to cup her face and feel her neck about. Little moans and gasps and whimpers spread in the air, undisturbed.

The bell announcing the end of afternoon classes rang in the distance. By then, they were both panting like beast and prey, with Will lying helplessly on the bench, and Phobos' head against her heaving chest. Silence draped over them, as if brought by angels, and Will's eyes travelled to the broken altar. Some theme song played in her head, and she smiled.

"Is this marriage?" she questioned a little too loud, her heart thump-thump-_thumping_ again, this time to a different rhythm, a different emotion.

Phobos stirred and raised his head. "Would you like it to be?"

She giggled. "Why not?"

His dazed stare turned into an amused smile. "I like it when you play my game."

Her eyes observed him, as his own did for her.

"...I think I like it more when you're red, instead of teal," she decided.

"And why is that?"

"Because, my favorite color is magenta."

He cocked his head. "In that case, I like it more when you're black instead of white."

"Really?"

"Because red and black go together. And I like things that go together."

Will beamed. The earlier thoughts played in her mind, and frustration had turned into fruition and satisfaction. At long last, they connected. They resonated. Their melodies and rhythms now complemented each other.

"No more secrets, then?"

"No more secrets, Milady Sinclaire."

Phobos stood and took her hand, inviting her to stand too.

"You really are the perfect leading lady," he quipped.

Will struck a pose. "I am perfect. Period."

"You alone can make my story take flight."

She laughed and twirled. "I am your Christine, and I will be your voice, my angel of music!"

“Sing, my angel!”

“I am your voice!”

“And I am your spirit!”

And for the first time ever, she heard him laugh like the boy he was. She wrapped her arms around him again, and together, they twirled and danced a little, spouting little references from his favorite musical.

Then he said, "Come on. Let's get dinner."

"Yes. Let's."

Phobos offered his hand and she took it. They interlaced fingers and went through the many winding passages, not minding how long they were. Will's heart thumped, thumped, thumped. She wished she could fly, euphoria and passion filling the emptiness in her chest.

And for the first time, Meridian Academy felt like one of the best decisions Will ever chose.

If only it felt like that every day, even until the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this was just a super self-indulgent idea for Classical PhoWill, a.k.a. the brand of PhoWill many PhoWill fans are used to and which I am not entirely an avid fan of, and I just had to write out because Bos and Will have such intense sexual tension going on in this fic idea. This was inspired by the very beautiful original fic, Catharsis, on Fictionpress. Seriously. If you're a fan of Classical PhoWill, please consider that because that's very Classical PhoWill vibes.
> 
> As hinted by the fic, Caleb and Cornelia are, were(?) together, but Caleb takes an interest in Will and pursues her secretly while still dating Cornelia, because reasons. Also, they're all in theater club, so I can make a good excuse of an outlet for Phobos' grim and gothic aesthetic.


End file.
